Overtime at The County Line
by CaileeChaos
Summary: A companion piece to A Man Worth a Legend in which Howard and Ellie May squabble; Everett gets faslely accused of smoking; and Forrest enjoys his first cigar. (This is just a little one-shot I couldn't fit into the original story. Takes place between Chapters 22 and 25.) Enjoy! Forrest/OC COMPLETE!


**This was written as a companion piece to my **Lawless **fanfiction **A Man Worth a Legend. **It's a short, little scene that takes places sometime between Chapters 22 and 25 that I couldn't make fit in the original story so I decided to post it separately. If you haven't read the original story, I doubt you'll be able to follow. Sorry! **

**As always, my friends, I hope you enjoy. **

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Safely tucked behind the bar of The County Line, away from the unruly patrons who were growing more raucous by the minute, Ellie May Davis stifled a yawn. Her chin resting on her open palm, she lazily eyed their customers, each one practically swimming in the clear jars of white lightning and apple brandy clutched so desperately tight in their grasp. Her upper lip curled in disgust of its own accord. Ellie May couldn't stand liquor. With a sigh, she yawned once more before her lips puckered like she'd been sucking on a lemon and she murmured, "This mess is such a blessing for business but it's wrapped in a curse. Nothin' good comes from drinkin'."

"I think you mean it's a blessing drank from a cursed jar," corrected Howard. Ellie May blinked. Perhaps it was lack of sleep, but, as she digested Howard's words, she realized his statement was actually a very astute metaphor. She briefly wondered if Howard knew what a metaphor was. Then, she scoffed. _I doubt it. _Leaning forward, Ellie May shot him a smirk, "You gettin' philosophical on me, Howard?"

"Phiso-what?"

Her eyes rolled. "Never mind."

The familiar swing of the kitchen door sounded behind them, immediately followed by a surprised declaration. "I thought I sent you home." Howard and Ellie May turned from the bar to see Forrest emerging from the kitchen. He peered quizzically at Ellie May who yawned in response, muttering, "And yet here I am."

"Ellie, it's getting late. Why don't you let Howard take you home?"

As if offended by the very idea, both Howard and Ellie May pulled disgusted faces, glancing sideways at one another. Ellie May countered his offer, "Why don't you shut her down for the night and take me home yourself?"

"Yeah, Forrest," echoed Howard with a scoff. "Try pawnin' your woman off on me. I got one of my own I can barely handle."

Ellie May snorted, shooting him a glance of disbelief. "You're lucky Lucy'll have you most days."

"Luck…" Howard grinned, pushing a massive hand through his unruly mop of hair and tossed a wink Ellie May's way. "-ain't got nothin' to do with it."

Her nose wrinkled, eyes clamping shut to fight off the sudden rush of unwanted mental images. "I don't even what to _think _about what you're implying."

Forrest watched the two with the same patient, somewhat amused disposition he always did. He knew that trying to interrupt or stop their bickering would only prolong and often worsen the argument. Eventually, when it seemed they were finally through squabbling, he blinked at them. "Y'all finished?"

Ellie May flushed. Her cheeks turning a delightful shade of pink, she was ashamed to have been caught acting so childish. On the contrary, Howard's brow furrowed, not quite sure what his little brother was getting at. Forrest cocked his head back toward the back door of the restaurant. "Take her home. I'll be by after while."

"I'm perfectly capable of driving myself, you know?"

Forrest fought a smile. "Yeah, I know, but it's dark. Lotta deer out at night. Lotta fol-"

"Folks out drunk, I know," muttered Ellie May, used to his tired, old spiel. It wasn't fair, how he got to worry about her so much but the tiniest bit of concern she displayed for him was downright unnecessary. She shoved Howard toward the back, "C'mon, you lumberjack. You're taking me home."

Everett slipped passed Ellie May and Howard as they left. Though it was never mentioned aloud, Everett had begun staying later to help Forrest close the restaurant so that Hal could leave early to rush home to his new baby and wife. The young man shot Forrest a bored glance as the still quarreling duo made their exit. "I see they've upgrading to name calling."

"That was a term of endearment," rumbled Forrest in his ever gravelly voice. "You'll know it when they start name calling."

Fishing the cigar nub from his pants pocket, Forrest popped it in his mouth and prepared to light it when he saw a familiar brunette head bobbing in the window between the kitchen and bar. He threw the cigar at Everett, hastily dropping the matches in his breast pocket. Ellie May reappeared, looking a bit flustered. "I forgot my sweater. And I hate your brother."

She fetched her cardigan from behind the counter, muttering something about locks and Howard's inability to take anything serious unless it involved violence. Then, abruptly, her movements stalled. She eyed the chewed cigar in Everett's hand. Her face crumbled. "Please tell me you don't smoke, Everett. It's a disgusting habit. Smells God awful and no woman wants to kiss a man who smokes. It's like licking a dirty ashtray." With a disapproving frown, she turned from him. Ellie May gave Forrest's hand an affectionate squeeze. "Come home soon."

And then she was gone. Everett passed the cigar back to Forrest, smirking, but before he could tease his boss, Forrest grunted. "Don't even start."

Striking a match, Forrest lit the cigar and took a deep, lung filling draw before releasing a cloud of smoke from his lips. He told Everett to watch the floor and stalked out the front door. He dropped onto an overturned box crate, kicking his feet up on the railing. He teethed the cigar. It was the first cigar he'd ever smoked. A gift from his father, Papa gave it to Forrest the day he purchased The County Line. Forrest had been slowly nursing it down to a sad, tasteless nub since. Over time any flavor the cigar once possessed had faded, the tobacco long dead. But Forrest couldn't bring himself to part with it. Reaching back into his pocket, Forrest withdrew a small, misshapen lump of wood – something else he refused to give up.

Moonlight shining on him, Forrest puffed on his dull cigar and ran his fingertips over the familiar, gnarled edges of the once figurine. This, he reckoned, was what life was all about.

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**I know it's short! Apologies. But you should review anyway! **


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